A Failure in Star City
by Squadron
Summary: Please read the first one, it will give you the origin of the bad guy, if you're interested in him. Either way, these are two separate stories. This is about Artemis, Robin, and Red Arrow's investigation of a new super evil sidekick's crimes after a shooting. On the other side of the tracks, Squadron's chasing down Witch Boy for answers about his predecessor.


This is my second story. Again, it's about Squadron, the fourteen year old super villain. Created as an equal to the team, this is about how he figures out what his powers are. Feel free to critique.

"That will be fine, thanks, I only want some coffee." The waitress shrugged internally and moved on to the next customer, a male, as far as the accountant could guess, as he was holding a newspaper completely unfolded and sitting at a corner table. The accountant checked his watch. The service was pretty good in Star city, generally, but he expected he might have to wait about ten minutes for some of the old brew. After all, it was about nine o'clock and he suspected workers were changing to the night shift. There were few other people in the café; a television was on, an anchorwoman talking of recent gang violence increases.

"How do you even measure that?" the accountant in the gray suit and hat was frustrated; he had children of his own and he didn't want them associating with their sort. It was somebody's fault; he knew it. There was somebody in charge of all this and profiting. There were not many people in the café, an older man, a waitress taking orders, a mother with one child, and a guy sitting in a corner. Almost as if he voiced them, the older man seemed to share his sentiments.

"Well, it's not as if they have a leader or anything." The old man's pie arrived, but he hardly seemed to notice. He was instead intent on talking with the man in gray. The newspaper of the guy in the corner wiggled a little, as if he was chuckling. The waitress, as if noticing his existence for the first time, stopped by his table to perhaps take his order.

"What's gotten into these kids lately? The accountant was genuinely interested at the new monsters coming out from under his bed. Maybe they should be locked up in juvenile hall until they learned to choose friends more carefully. He and the old man carried on the conversation until the old man suddenly had a heart attack and died. The man in gray reached for his cell phone and called an ambulance.

"Hello 911, what is your emergency?"

"We're going to need an ambulance; I need you to track my phone!

"We're sending one right now, but I need you to stay on the line and tell me what happened"

A car drove quickly past the café and bullets seemed to rain in like actual rain. At this point, the man in gray would get out of either's way. He wanted to see his wife when he returned home, and he didn't feel like walking back to the apartment wet. The accountant dived under a counter and bullets made contact with some people. When the nightmare was over, the man in gray stood and realized he was the only one except the child who was completely uninjured. The waitress was bleeding out of her abdomen, the mother had stress trauma jumping out of the way with her son, and the guy in the corner in the black suit had a bullet lodged in his foreleg, and was making a mild attempt at pulling it out, but had not put down his paper or stood up. But everyone felt they got off easily when they saw the old man with four to the chest. But no one was more frantic than the 911 operator. It was probably her first day.

"I thought I heard shots fired! The ambulances are almost there! Where are the shooters?"

"They're gone. It was a drive-by shooting; they just shot in and kept driving." Ambulances arrived. This could mean but one thing. They were close to the hospital. The accountant breathed a sigh of relief. He would see his wife again and everyone would live through this except the old man. Paramedics ran into the café with stretchers.

"Who called?" The man in gray indicated that he did, and they took him off to question him. The rest of the team loaded people onto stretchers and took them into the ambulance. The mother was unable to help, but the boy formerly holding a newspaper picked up the waitress and placed her on a stretcher. They insisted that he come along as well, seeing as he had a bullet in his leg. When the ambulances drove away, two junior members of the medical team proceeded to question the accountant, who soon noticed they were _quite_ junior.

"How old are you two? Are you still in medical school or something?"

"Yeah, we're interns, we can't be trusted with being on the actual ambulance taking bullets out of people." The boy who was talking seemed to have thrown medical scrubs over some other type of clothes, had short black hair, a mask, and seemed too young to be in medical school. The girl next to him, a blonde with some kind of black and green outfit under the scrubs, something slung over her back and another black mask, announced that they were going to be the ones asking the questions.

"What are you two, thirteen?"

"That's irrelevant. We want to know why you called us." The boy seemed particularly annoyed.

"Hasn't there just been a shooting?"

"You called before." The girl was growing suspicious.

"Have the two of you been watching me?"

"You said that you'd need an ambulance in the future, and you're the only adult completely unharmed. Did you know the shooting would take place?" The accountant felt the boy was misinterpreting his request for an ambulance. All ambulances came in the future, but he needed one right then.

"No, there was this old guy-

"The only one who died? Was the attack coordinated for his death?"

"What are you saying? You don't think I did this, do you? I'm an accountant; I can't walk into a café without being accused of terrorism?"

"Robin, I think he's telling the truth. He doesn't know anything relevant to us." The boy looked at her a minute, then around the café.

"Yeah, there are other people to interview, let's go." The boy and girl left him alone in the café. The man in gray sighed. Turned out he wasn't going to get some of the old brew after all.

"Let's split up. We can't let the witnesses get too far apart." Artemis took off the scrubs she'd thrown over her costume and threw them into the hospital return bin from which she stole them. You might say borrow them. Yes, that's exactly what she did.

"You want to take the hospitalized ones? There not going to question when you look too young to even still be in med school. Do I look like a kid to you?" Artemis peered towards him with a quizzical frown. He stopped awaiting an answer and let her continue with what she was going to say.

"What'll you do? I don't think we could get anything from the guy we saw earlier. He's probably the only involved not in the hospital." Robin accelerated. He needed to get out of the hospital; the two of them were drawing too much attention. Two sidekicks, working together, in a hospital was understandably suspicious. Artemis was following him in confusion. He needed to wrap this up.

Ok, the African American in the black suit we were following because someone thought he recognized him from an escaped murder confession in this very hospital? He had a bullet stuck in his foreleg and he's already out. Clearly, he doesn't like hospitals. If he can get out this quickly, he's either super something or going for super help. I'm going after him to figure out what's what. I know what you're going to say, but I need you here. I'm going to see you later." Robin exited.

"Ok, where do I start? Cover story: Ugh… Green Arrow sent me in order to question the witnesses." This might work. Artemis was betting no one knew him personally or anything. Artemis was no Red Arrow; she hated working alone; she didn't know what to do; she never learned how to _investigate?_ She wanted to just shoot up some bad guys, 22 minute solution; TV style. She was better off being some kind of loose cannon. Unfortunately, there was investigating to do and she had no choice to take care of it. She proceeded to the injured mother. They always seem to have motive.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened after the man in gray called 911."

"The first things we saw were the headlights of the car. About two seconds later, we heard shots fired. The waitress was standing over by the master of mystery in the corner when the bullets broke the windows, but I had already pushed our table over and gotten behind it with Harold. I never checked to see if the table stopped any bullets or they just missed us."

"The Green Arrow thinks there was a particular target. Could you explain how you got your injury and guess as to who it was?"

"I –can't remember how I got this injury. The waitress almost died from blood loss, the old man got hit four times, but I couldn't imagine the target being anyone else."

"I have one more question. Could you tell what the guy in the corner said to the waitress?"

"He said something in a hushed voice. It must have sounded clear to her, though."

"Thank you for your time." Artemis left the room. After she was done interviewing, there would be a few things she'd want to check out at the café. But she still had to talk to the waitress, and she would be under greater security. Sighing, Artemis realized she had no choice but to return at night.

About three hours later the last nurse was locking up the building. Artemis grinned to herself. It didn't matter. She had been inside since eight o'clock, crouched on the tiled ceiling in in the space between floors. She loved this place; it was great for picking people off from an unseen location. No one ever checks the roof. There was a myriad of other places she could have hidden, of course, but, as locked doors might have been a variable, she took the simple route and went over all of them. She was now right above the waitress's room. There would be surveillance cameras, but those weren't checked unless something was reported. Artemis descended into the room in a graceful drop. The heart rate monitor was depicting a more interesting picture all of a sudden.

"You are not to repeat this conversation even if questioned."

"How did you know that's what he said to me?" Artemis wasted no time being confused

"The Green Arrow had his suspicions. We'd like you to relay the rest of your conversation"

"When I asked him what he wanted, that was the first thing he said to me. He told me he'd called in a gang to drive by and fire on the old man. He was a witness of something. He ordered me to put something in the old guy's woman's food ... The one with her child? I didn't want to, but he said that if I didn't stand where he'd tell me to stand, when the shooters came by, I would get hit and die. I guess he was lying; I shouldn't have believed him…"

"It's okay. We know where he is and we're after him at the moment. I swear he's not going to come back here." Now all Artemis had to do was make good on that promise.

Squadron appeared in a graveyard. He had questions on his mind, and he knew where to find their answers. Witch Boy would return here soon, he could feel it. Maybe it was the sword of tactical planning. What a stupid power for a sword. It should light on fire, cut through anything, or extend at will. But squadron was not a rouge warrior that kept to his own business. Going off on a vector with insane power did not suit him; he'd rather lead an army to victory than fight alone. No, that path was for other, more interesting super humans, like Red Arrow, too proud to ask for help from anyone.

"Witch Boy, I know you're here! I want to talk to you!" Squadron shouted in the most demanding possible voice. Nothing happened. Squadron was wasting his time here, Witch Boy was just messing with him, and he could be healed in some other hospital. Squadron turned to leave when he heard some kind of fizzing sound behind him. A black ribbon coiled in the air until it formed a solid being with those familiar, small, red eyes.

"I thought you favored portals."

"There's one right above me. I was merely reappearing with style."

"I hear on the old poisoned grapevine you sent Legion on a little errand. Exactly what did that entail? Surely not killing my ancestor…" Squadron knew how to play Witch Boy's game. He'd dealt with his type before. It was a trick mess of being able to insult and threaten whilst remaining polite and even gentlemanly. Squadron found this type of perverse communication inefficient and unnecessary. Witch Boy made you feel small, and then you do stuff to impress him or show him up. He at least had to pretend to be playing Witch Boy's game.

"Oh, not at all, not at all that's nothing like what I was trying to do. What Legion wanted was a sidekick, someone to don the helmet and sword, maybe produce someone cleverer even than myself. He tried to beat me at my own game, and use me for his own nefarious purposes. Imagine that! Anyway, I sent him with a fake mission and a real one to ensure he could never have a sidekick.

"Of what sort did you send him? Certainly not an inane military victory, so as he might have an illusion of a fine place to look for a champion, which you would certainly have him kill?" Squadron was beginning to hate this playful back and forth. He was saying the opposite of what he meant to inspire the opposite of what Witch Boy was going to respond.

"Oh, I do concede I may have caused him kill the strongest warrior on the field to spite him, because my other goal was to eliminate the Carthaginian, and only the strongest would be able. I was not given an accurate report when Legion returned, of course, but it seems a relatively good replacement was found one way or the other."

"What was the original purpose of sending Legion through time then, merely because you could?"

"No, I did so rather to prove that I can."

"Whatever could you mean? Surely you don't plan on _recreating _this experiment."

"Not at all, see, someone has to die in exchange for a trip. Also the spell only works on the full moon, with a huge ritual and multiple parties."

"So you merely wanted to be sure this would be an asset for the future?"

"But of course. Now if you'll lend me your helm, I can show you how to use it." Squadron's blood boiled. What? How did Witch Boy know about the powers of his helmet? Could he afford to gamble that Witch Boy was about to give him something he knew Squadron would voluntarily return to his head? Could he afford _not to know_? Witch Boy could probably tell, by the blood running to his face he was thinking quickly. But then an idea came to him.

"While I am most intrigued by the inner workings of my helm, I believe I have already mastered its supernatural properties. Are you aware that any enchantments placed on this helm turn against their caster?

"Oh? Well, in that case, I suppose I am unable to burn you alive by placing an Incineration Circle in it. Of course, these activate only when the user voluntarily touches them." Witch Boy gave a hellish, not at all gentlemanly laugh and returned to his suave, Nosferatu- style voice. Squadron chuckled a bit as well. It was best to have Witch Boy thinking he assumed it was a joke.

"At any rate, you do not indeed have a complete grasp on your new hat's gifts for you. For instance, according to this book I have,-"A thick, white book materialized, spinning on a vertex in Witch Boy's palm. The cover read _Legionis_, which Squadron immediately recognized as Latin. "The Legion Helmet can be used to give the owner's troops skin of stone, should they pledge loyalty to him."

"Well, what do you think of that? You can go your whole life looking for troops, or you can pawn it off to me and I personally guarantee I can send you back in time as far as you like." This was an offer Squadron couldn't brush off. But it was too good to be true. Witch Boy was always using whatever came his way for his own nefarious purposes or worse, his own entertainment.

"I'm uninterested. Of course, I have complete belief I could be sent back in time, but I am favorably opinionated regarding this helm, as surely now no _other_ magicians may use magic on me. If I may, I would like that book. Would you mind terribly if I had a look in it?"

"Oh, not at all, but, regrettably, Legion traded it to me for the opportunity to return to Roman times! Of course, I required this to send him back, a possession is always necessary." Squadron figured he'd better leave alive and with all his stuff. He made a polite comment about wanting to stay, but being needed elsewhere. As he had turned to leave and had taken a few steps, he could feel Witch Boy smiling.

"But don't you want to hear the best part? Someone's observed this entire conversation. A small, red bird has heard all the valuable information exchanged here tonight. Squadron noticed a small, roundish object as it flew past his face and stopped in front of Witch Boy.

"Oh, aren't we violent? Come into the clear, the bushes are no place to find your way you have surely lost, which then led you here." A masked youth emerged and approached the two of them. A device on his fore arm emitted round projected screen. As far as Squadron could see, the screen had only a blinking red option on it. What was he going to do with that?

Robin had encountered Witch Boy before. Shields were one of his specialties. There was no use throwing a Batarang directly at him. But at the last few sentences about the requirement of a possession and Witch Boy always using people, Robin's plan just might work. Witch Boy started to clap slowly.

"Now what was the point- of throwing this at me? You've only given me something to use against you, and with this book, I can send you to another time if I like."

"When you create a force field, it doesn't expand outward, but appears out of nowhere. Therefore-"Robin touched the round screed and it disappeared. "Picking up an explosive is death to you" The Batarang exploded in Witch Boy's face where he had been inspecting it and Robin kicked in Squadron's direction. Squadron had an expression of slight confusion; he had not expected Robin to attack him. He staggered, and then swung his sword towards Robin, which was just short.

"_Why does he have to have a sword? He can't get great range with it, but it beats hand-to- hand. It's time to switch targets." _Robin sidestepped to Witch Boy, who'd suffered more pain than damage at an explosive going off in his face, jumped, and scissor flipped him. There could only be one thing Squadron was thinking with the expression he had. _The boy's no stranger to martial arts- lucky he doesn't like Witch Boy. _Robin suddenly understood. Squadron would pretend to remain neutral this battle because he thought Witch Boy was dangerous to his plans, and wasn't attacking Robin because he didn't know Robin was onto him.

"What are you doing, Squadron? Aid me! You know I'm no good when I've no time to put up a shield!" Robin threw a Batarang at him badly and Squadron pretended to be hit.

"Oh, you're going to get it if I ever recover, boy!" Robin almost smiled, but decided he'd be given away and he remembered this was a bad guy. Robin recalled the book all of a sudden. The weapon of time travel was too ridiculously powerful for Witch Boy to possess, even if it was a long and difficult process. Robin took out his last Batarang and, upon noticing Witch Boy was holding the white tome by the spine; thrust the explosive in between the pages. At this distraction, Witch Boy put his foot on Robin's chest and using the ground as personal resistance, pushed as far as he could. Robin flew all the way over to the bushes. The Batarang exploded and Witch Boy dropped what was left of the book, which was on fire. Squadron stood up. He couldn't risk Witch Boy trying to heal him, apparently.

"You're going to die, now boy. I'm not one of those new-fangled magicians; they're much more merciful." A flame burst to life in Witch Boy's palm. The flame danced back and forth, growing taller and taller in a spiraling direction. When it stopped growing, Robin noticed it was in the shape of a snake, whose eyes opened and did glow a deep violet. The snake lunged as an arrow flew over Robin's right shoulder, solidly colliding with Witch Boy's skull. Robin saw absolutely no damage as an arm yanked him back into the bushes and the two ran out, still crouched in fear of fire snakes. Artemis had saved him.

Artemis was standing in the café. She noted a few details she couldn't explain. The table behind which the mother and her child hid was not riddled with bullets, the windows gave a blurry picture of the outside world, which didn't make sense, as the shooters fired through it and managed to hit the old man four times in the chest. There was also a table in front of where the guy with the newspaper was sitting. The chalk lines and evidence markers were still present. This was a crime scene, no one had moved anything. How would a bullet hit a guy in the leg if there was no clear path to him? The only thing of which Artemis could think was that the bullet hole was a fake. Wait. How could anyone see the bullet, if the guy had been wearing long black slacks? There was only one person left to question who wouldn't recognize her. Artemis had to go undercover again.

The next morning Artemis threw on a short green dress with a suggestive neckline after a night alone in a motel. Where was Robin? Maybe he'd been captured… or worse. No, Robin knew to stay out of sight no matter what. When Artemis stood to check her reflection, she sighed at the display. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be caught dead in "actual girl clothes". Which is why, it was obviously a better disguise. Artemis hated irony. She headed outside, took the bus and reappeared in the hospital. _Take Three! Action!_ She wouldn't want the kid's mother to be around, so she waited outside the room and listened to them as they talked. How old was this kid? He was probably six or eight because of his voice. Ugh. He'll probably pass out or be too nervous to talk to me. At least it guarantees a quick answer. When the child emerged, she saw he was not indeed eight, but ten. She could use this. Artemis leaned forward and asked the child how it became known the guy in the corner had a bullet in his leg without providing a reason. She wouldn't need one. Unexpectedly, the boy looked her straight in the eye and asked why. Artemis blinked. The force is strong in this one.

"I'm interested because there was a table in the bullets supposed path."

"He had rolled up his legs before any of us noticed he had a bullet hole. When he put it back, there wasn't a hole in his pants. I have no doubt he faked the wound for all but the medical personnel."

"Thank you, that'll be all." Artemis left the hospital feeling badly about herself for what she hoped would be the last time. It was time to suit up, and she really didn't want to go through something like that again. When she returned to the hotel, Robin and Red Arrow were waiting for her.

"Did you spend the morning on the town or something?" Red Arrow just _had_ to be an ass like this all the time. Robin was not quite looking at her, and she understood. She was putting him in an awkward situation. Artemis took a breath and rapidly thought up a speech that would make Red Arrow look like an imbecile. It was bad enough they saw her out-costume, as she might be seen with family, but why did it have to be Red Arrow?

"For your information, Speedy, I suspected and was right that someone was onto us, and that I couldn't afford to be recognized. As I proceeded in collecting information, I discovered things I would like to relate. I'm no less than absolutely appalled that you failed to realize I not only know what I am doing, but would have avoided it at all costs." Red Arrow saw no point in informing her of his change in alias, as she obviously forgot to annoy him. Robin angrily stood up between the two of them.

"Get changed. We've got stuff to tell you as well."

"What will it be, Joker? Do you have pawns for me?" An inch of glass was between Squadron and the Joker, incarcerated in Arkham Asylum for various charges of generally being a bad boy. Squadron never quite understood why he did not plea insanity. Joker could surely sell it.

"Oh, Squaddie, and here I thought you were looking for a queen! I'd have pointed you out to all the cute anemic gals with the Fregoli delusion I know! Of course, I trapped them all in a mirror room to instill the Fregoli delusion, as well as actually being everyone they met in a different disguise!" Joker threw back his head and laughed until he fell backwards, still tied to his chair.

"I'm merely looking for some troops to command as I'm altogether unremarkable without them. Also, I heard about your Injustice League, I might be able to help with that. Perhaps the group could appreciate a leader." Joker was helped back up from the floor where Squadron had been staring down at him by an armed guard on his side of the glass. Only a minute left, Squadron figured he should have listened more than talked, especially about his origin.

"Give it up, Squaddie, the rest of the group would never go along with a newbie coming to lead without showing experience in other fields. Why do you want an army of stone skinned mercenaries anyway? Is it money, drugs? Believe me, I can get those."

"What I want is Witch Boy's head on a spit. Up until a little sidekick destroyed one of his spell books, he could open a time portal, which is too much power for one to possess. If you're interested, I could swing by here with my army." Joker looked up from filing his nails with a carpenter's file.

"Pass. But terrorism on the scale you're suggesting sounds fun. I hear there's a group out in the Mid-East or thereabouts without a real leader now."

"I was more interested in a squadron of supers, I could mobilize something like that against the Justice League; I'd need diverse powers to conquer diverse powers." Joker pretended to be only mildly interested. Inside, he was boiling with excitement.

"I like you kiddo, the whole power being your goal, you seem to just want to destroy the whole-

"Visiting is over. You can come back tomorrow; I still don't care what's said here." The guard motioned for Squadron to stand, who left the room without any sort of formalities. This was perfect. He had Joker on his side. The Injustice League couldn't flatly turn him down now.

Bowstrings were pulled back as the target stepped into the alleyway. A tall black man, wearing a black suit and red orange helmet with a matching short sword in the scabbard at his belt looked straight up at her and continued a sweeping glance. Artemis now knew him as Squadron, a heartless murderer and coordinator of recent gang violence in Star City.

"Aim the pointy ones at his legs. Explosives can be fired at his skull." Artemis agreed; No Remorse was the best policy for cons like he.

"Got one of those cushiony Jell-O arrows?"

"Bar his escape? Look how his sword vibrates or something. It'd probably cut through without much trouble." Robin ordered them to silence themselves from the other rooftop. He gestured down at Squadron, who was taking something out of his pocket that looked like an old fashioned Nazi grenade. In the space of a second and a half, he spun around on one heel and threw it directly at Artemis. It collided with her chest in less time.

"You know, if there's any tactical problem with archers, it's that they can't protect themselves very well. I sure am lucky Joker was able to get this to me." Artemis gagged and doubled over, as the explosive had released a gas she couldn't move away to avoid inhaling. Robin looked legitimately afraid.

"Red Arrow, get her away from the gas!" While getting out the last, he jumped off the roof and winged a Batarang at Squadron's head. This time it was for real; there was no Witch Boy to be a greater threat. Rather than hitting his helmet, however, the Batarang harmlessly exploded on the leaf shaped sword Squadron brought up in front of his face.

"What tipped you off? It'll help next time we track down a murderer."

"Nothing gave you away. It was merely a good, tactical spot for your archers and I suspected you couldn't resist the opportunity." Squadron slung his sword at Robin, who had just gracefully landed, then leapt out of the way. An arrow stuck into Squadron's calf, Robin looked up at Speedy, who had managed to get Artemis out of the way. Squadron used the chance to bludgeon Robin with the pommel. Robin fell and realized he was still better off than Artemis. She was laughing her head off and her eye color was unintelligible, as the darks of her eyes had shrunk and she was trying to stand. Her bow had fallen off the rooftop; she selected her one solid steel shafted arrow and stuffed the feathered end up the arrow guard on her arm. She pulled off her mask and a mad grin spread across her face.

"That wasn't laughing gas…" Red Arrow pulled another arrow from his quiver and tried to hold Artemis from walking off the rooftop. Robin shakily got to his feet. If this guy got away, Witch Boy might have a headache on his hands, but there would be innocent people involved.

"Does this mean you're ready to fight, boy? Oh, well, it appears my ride will soon be here. Blackout seems interested in my… leadership capabilities." Yellowish headlights from an approaching vehicle illuminated the alleyway. Another arrow found its way to Squadron, this time it was deflected. Squadron began to walk away at a limp when Artemis screamed as she took exaggerated steps off the rooftop and onto the ground.

"Artemis!" Robin ran over to her crumpled body. Her life was more important; there would be other chances to catch Squadron. Artemis rose from the ground in the space of a second with fractured ribs and took pursuit after Squadron. A gelatinous mass appeared on the back of the truck toward which Squadron was making his way. Red Arrow, already with another shot in hand, alighted on it.

"Robin! The gas probably isn't permanent; we can still pull this off." Squadron snapped the shaft in his leg and dug out the point. The other end of the alleyway was his best bet. Blackout could easily pull around and sling the archer off. A fist with a metal spike swung at him before he could reach it.

"Artemis! We don't execute bad guys!" She didn't seem to register Robin's sentiment and swung at vital areas, still with an inhuman grin. Red Arrow, probably wondering who was driving the truck, looked in through the back window. It was a strong dude in a hoodie straight out of _Assassin's Creed_, who realized he was being observed and flipped back his hood. His eyes were totally black, like rifts in the universe. Red Arrow pulled away his gaze just in time. He had almost felt like he was slipping into unconsciousness. Blackout swore, hit the dash, and climbed out of the car, engaging in fisticuffs with Speedy. But the one person in the alleyway to whom the situation made sense was Artemis, fighting Squadron at close range, near suicide or compromising the mission.

The talking elephant was doing quite well at holding her off, considering it had but one tusk. A little red bird on her shoulder was idly chirping away as if she could understand. A cheetah was barring one of the elephant's exits, so Artemis had to keep him from going out the other one.

"You know, you remind me of a fine selection from Shakespeare! King Lear, I believe."

Artemis punched him with the spike while he was talking and rammed him against a glass door of one of the buildings. The cheetah was suddenly looking preoccupied; a ghost had emerged and was fighting with him now. The bird was chirping loudly now and something went from him to the door. The door broke; Artemis fell in with the elephant.

"_What have you done? I had the beast in my grasp!_

"You're going so insane you don't realize what's going on around you and can't tell when your friends speak the truth!" He threw Artemis off of him and she hit the top of the doorway. Shards of glass stuck into her back as the red bird flew in and fought the mega fauna.

_"No, little bird, your wing's broken! Ah, never mind, peck his eyes out!"_

The bird was thrown off Squadron and was beginning not to look like a bird anymore. Squadron stood and walked to the exit. Perhaps talking and fighting with Artemis was enough to tell her he isn't an elephant. The sleeping cheetah on the ground was flickering between big cat and human. It was like that moment in every dream where the deluded reality stops making sense and you wake up. Artemis looked around at faces as she pursued Squadron. They were yelling at her, instructing, maybe, or cursing. Squadron jumped onto the back of the truck, skewered the unconscious Red Arrow, threw him onto the pavement, and ordered Blackout to step on it. They were done; there was no need to kill the children. As the crazy girl chased him, Squadron called out to her in her frenzy to catch up with him.

"I know what you want now, Oh Lionhearted one! It's truly a pity I couldn't stay to ridicule you longer, but take this as a parting gift." Squadron threw a USB drive at Artemis, hitting her in the eye, before she collapsed from multiple injuries. The world was going black. Was she dying? Shame, it was just starting to make sense, too…

Robin observed his unconscious friends in the Star City hospital. The Madness gas from Joker Squadron had tested on Artemis had worn off sometime in her sleep, but her wounds were far from disappearing. He had radioed the rest of the team that he had let his group fall into a trap, but hadn't been able to tell them more. M'gann had soul enough to let him hang up, she didn't have the heart to make him give a full report, and she was right as when he canceled the transmission, tears were streaming in little rivulets through all the scars in his face, soon to be erased by Star City's state of the art technology. Artemis was waking; Red Arrow was pretending to be asleep, and just sort of sulking in the fetal position.

"What was on that flash drive he threw at me?" Robin frowned. It was only one sentence.

"_A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!"_


End file.
